


Fangs and Fury

by Klayr_de_Gall



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Billy is kind of an asshole, Canonical Child Abuse, Found Family, Lonely Steve Harrington, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Steve Needs a Hug, Vampire!Steve, Werewolf!Billy, accidental imprinting, even while unwanted at first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22747672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klayr_de_Gall/pseuds/Klayr_de_Gall
Summary: Billy knows that he should turn andleaveimmediately. The moon is only a quarter full, dampening his strange, and this Harrington, this vampire is old. But instead of running, he draws closer, inhaling a big mouthful of that smell like coming up for air after drowning."Harrington, right?"
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 31
Kudos: 195
Collections: Harringrove Week of Love





	Fangs and Fury

**Author's Note:**

> For ["Harringrove Week of Love"](https://harringroveweekoflove.tumblr.com/) over on Tumblr and the amazing Prompt "Vampire AU"
> 
> I did struggle to start writing, and when I finally found the time and inspiration to sit down real-life decided that there some other stuff needed to be done. That#s why I decided to split this up into three parts, to still be able to post today!
> 
> This story was completely spawned by ["Zayacv"](https://zayacv.tumblr.com/) and her stunning Drawings and the chats we had about it. Thank you for being this inspiring! <3<3<3 Art will be linked at the end of the chapter!
> 
> **Warnings**  
>  \- Neil Hargrove typical violence  
> \- Sad Steve  
> \- Very sad Steve  
> \- Self-harm (in a vampire way)

This was bullshit.

That whole fucking town was bullshit.

Moving here was even bigger bullshit.

Billy snarls as the signal down the road turns red, pressing his foot even harder down on the gas, not caring if he might kill himself and Max - currently sitting beside him, gripping the passenger seat so hard the lather might rip any minute. As if he would! There was no other car on the street, everyone tethering around with their little annoying spawns for trick and treating. Maybe he could hit one of the kids, one of Max's adorable little friends even, as he had threatened to. That would show Neil what bullshit idea it had been dragging his whole family out to miserable Nowhere Indiana. There might as well be a soul-sucking black hole marked on the map instead. He could run over a few kids and show his dad that he could fuck up way more than just sticking his dick where it didn't belong. Could get them all in really deep shit.

Gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white, Billy pushes his car a bit more, tires squealing on the damp asphalt. His little step-devil yells beside him, pressing a hand against the headboard when the car loses grip for a moment. Her eyes are _burning_ when she swirls at him, bares her teeth.

"Stop that!! You want to die??"

Max's screeching voice makes Billy grind his teeth, makes his head ring, makes his split lip reopen again. A few drops of blood dribble down his chin. Neil had got him good. Only one visible hit. No one would get to see the patchwork of blues and greens on Billy's back. In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have pushed so hard, shouldn't have walked out of his room with some fur around his neck and black ears tucked on his head. Shouldn't have answered Susan's question what his Halloween costume was supposed to be. Shouldn't have said _"A werewolf."_ with to much bitchy attitude. Billy had been on the floor faster than he could anticipate it, his old man towering over him. But he was still supposed to drive Max to her Trick and Treat meet-up, so a few friendly kicks in the back with a steel-capped boot had been all Billy had gotten. He had left the damn ears and fur at home.

The Camaro comes to an abrupt stop, Max and him both getting hauled forward by the force of momentum. His sister is still scowling at him.

"What?"

Billy's voice is a bitter bark. He wants to tear into something. Anything. He is nearly vibrating with how he feels so keyed up.

"Can you not be an asshole for once?" Max is no bitch, impressively puffed up for her tiny size. Would she be a bigger part animal, her flaming red hair would probably stand straight up right now.

They both stare at each other for long, tense seconds, ready to be at each other's throats. It wouldn't be the first time. But Billy has collected enough bruises for one day, his back aching with dull discomfort, So he draws a big breath and forces himself to loosen up. Let's his shoulders drop, sinks back into the worn leather of his seat. After a moment, Max mirrors that action. They have enough shit on their plates, it won't get them any further when they insist on being each other's enemies.

"Still got our deal?"

Billy throws her a sidelong glance. It's not really a question. But he figures she might not push as hard if he plays civil, and he is right. Get’s his answer a beat later.

"Yeah. You go to your party, I go hunting for sweets and then get a lift home before Neil and Susan are back from their date. No one will care where you are as long as I'm home."

Max's last words are aimed to sting - she is still pissed - but if they do, Billy isn't showing it, just rolls his eyes and mutters a sarcastic _"thanks."_

His sister looks at him a moment longer but stays silent in the end. Whatever had been on her mind hangs unspoken in the air between them. Billy can sense her worry anyway. They have been a pack for years now, long enough to have forged that kind of bond - while both fighting tooth and nail against it - and in the end, they are both headstrong wolves that want to protect and care for their own.

"I'm fine." Billy shoots her a look and clicks his tongue. "Do you need me to throw a fetch-toy for you to get outa my car, gremlin?"

"Asshole."

But she hauls herself out of the Camaro with the barest of a smile on her lips. They had worse and as long as Billy has still breath to snark in his lungs, they both know it will be okay. Has to be.

Max slams the door to hard, knows that he hates it.  
Billy watches her bounce over to her new nerdy friends. Max inserts herself into the group as if she belongs. Hawkins is still a shitshow, but he will hate this place a little less as long as it is treating her well.

When Max flips him the bird for still creeping around, he throws the car into drive and speeds away. He has a party to go to.

~~

Tina's place isn’t exactly a dump, but it’s no castle either. Nothing special. Just the usual average bullshit that Billy has to come to expect from a place like Hawkins. When his first days at the clown show that they called High School had taught him anything, then that this joke of a town was as full with over-eager teens that know zilch about life as any other American city. 

Everyone reeks of sweat and cheap booze, and not in a fun way either. It makes Billy slightly nauseous while he waves through the crowd, avoiding the fourth girl that was trying to throw herself at him tonight. He couldn’t even bother to remember her name, let alone take the time to entertain her. She better fuck off.

Getting drunk and getting to third base is the only things teens this age care about, and Billy isn’t really an exception, sex is great, but he also is frustrated and pissed and everyone is smelling just _wrong_. At least back in Cali, he had been able to sniff out the ones that were like him, someone that could handle what Billy had to give out. But Hawkins is painfully average. Neil had made sure of that. No wolves around for endless miles, moving way out of any territory. Noone around with keen enough senses to pick up on Max’s distress, to scent Susans fearful submission, to smell the open, bleeding wounds on Billy’s body. Noone for his pack to go to for help. Billy has to give it to his old man, he did find the perfect cage.

“Hargrove, come on! Wanna go a round on the keg?!”

An enthusiastic slap on the back from Tommy H. rips Billy out of his self-loathing. No use for it anyway. Better to make the best of it and hope for some distraction.

“You all don’t stand a chance.”, he mutters, making the freckleface laugh.

“Better try to beat the King's record then.”

Turns out the record set by the last Keg King is not that much of an embarrassing joke as Billy had expected. Tina is so nice to inform him of the time he would have to beat while swinging her hips and sticking her uncovered leg out - Billy would wonder what her costume was supposed to be, but he is to distracted by the number. Nearly two minutes. 01:52 to be exact.

"Who did that one?"

Billy whistles low under his breath, gets his hands on the metal of the Keg. Tommy and another dude lift him. He doesn't trust them nearly enough not to drop him, but jocks like that are fueled by bullheadedness and alcohol. And the knowledge that Billy will swoop the floor with their asses if they screw this up for him.

"Harrington did it first year of High school. No one got even close, since."

Tommy says that name like it should mean something to Billy, but it doesn't. Not beyond the gossip about a fallen king that one of the eager girls - Chelsea? Chally? Cherry? - had shared with him while showing him around the school.

With only enough time for a grunt, Billy gets tipped up and cheap beer fills his mouth. He has no other choice than to swallow in big gulps, drinking it all down to not have it dripping out between his lips and into his eyes and hair. The little crowd that had gathered around him goes wild, and it is easy to get lost in the rush, in the loud cheers and the thundering of his heartbeat. Billy is stubborn on the best of days, and his heritage makes it easy for him to just keep going. Beer isn't even registered as alcoholic with his heightened metabolism, but all the slouching substance in his stomach makes him feel a bit like throwing up.

When Tommy jells out the two minutes mark, Billy keeps going another ten seconds just because he can, just because he is that kind of show-off. Pisswarm beer splatters over his chest when he releases the hose from his lips and the world is spinning for a moment, tips back in the right direction. With how the teens go wild around him, no one noticed that Billy grabs the metal rail of the keg hard enough to dent it, only for a moment, only till his feet are steady again.

He throws his head back and howls with the satisfaction of the win.

"That's how you do it, Hawkins!"

Billy’s cheer is answered with enthusiastic yelling and congratulation, Tommy plastering himself against his side like he has any right to be here. Billy should bite his freckled head off, or puck beer all over him, but he settles for taking his cigarette back and accepting the proximity. As much as the wolf in him is a creature of solitude, as strong he yearns for a pack of his own. Tommy isn't that, but he can pretend for a bit.

Tommy leads him into the house and Billy doesn't resist, plucking some toilet paper from the ceiling lamp and dabs at the mess of spit and beer that is covering his chest.

"You see that, Harrington? Your days as King are _over_!"

The way Tommy is yelling into Billy's ear earns him a hard shove and the frecklehead stumbles, still laughing and pointing all mean. Expecting some beefcakey captain of the rugby-type of guy, Billy turns to have a look at that King Steve. The guy leaning back against the opposite wall is none of that, all tall and lean, pretty in a gut-punching kind of way. For a moment Billy suspects he is just looking at the wrong person, maybe Tommy is to drunk to get faces right. But then the brown-haired boy straightens up and squares his shoulders, eyes hard, and Billy draws a sharp breath that whistles lightly between his teeth. No, that guy is a King alright.

He can't resist his hunting impulse, zeroing in like he would be on a pray. Billy is halfway across the room, even climbing over a couch without paying it much mind when the smell hits him. Old dust and rotten wood. And layers of blood. He should have noticed, should have smelled this sooner, after stepping one foot into his new high school. But he had been distracted. Distracted enough to miss the presence of a vampire.

Billy knows that he should turn and _leave_ immediately. The moon is only a quarter full, dampening his strange, and this Harrington, this vampire is old. But instead of running, he draws closer, inhaling a big mouthful of that smell like coming up for air after drowning.

Harrington is holding himself completely still while Billy and Tommy invade his space, slowly dragging his sunglasses down from his nose.

"Seems like you lost all touch, Harrington."

Snickering like he made the funniest joke, Tommy pats the taller teen on the shoulder, a touch that seems familiar - even while meaner - and speaks of some history. The sudden urge to reach out and rip Tommy's hand off hits Billy with such force, he sways backward. His claws prickle under his skin, his teeth arch to take a bite.

The overwhelming sensation subdues the moment Tommy steps back, turning to the petite and absolutely unimpressed girl at Harrington's side.

"That's it, Princess Wheeler. Went digging for a King and only found an outcast. How sad."

"Tommy."

Harringtons voice is cutting, and Billy only sees the subtle flash of color in his big brown eyes, the sudden shift to something redder, there and gone in the next moment, because he looks for it.

Tommy blinks once. Twice.

"I need another drink."

The redhead's words sound a bit more slurred then a moment before as he turns and walks away, his latest insult against the former King of Hawkins slipping away into the void. The girl is utterly unfazed and Billy wonders if she is a vampire too, if she knows. But she smells perfectly human. Smells of Steve, but in another way, in a way that sets Billy back on edge immediately. Instead, he focuses on Steve

"Harrington, right?", he snarls, stepping another few inches closer, into the vampire's personal bubble.

Steve's eyes flash again, more prominent now that Billy knows the signs. The old hypnotic powers do not affect him, the beast in him even older than that trick. Harrington draws his eyebrows together, adorably confused.

"And you are?"

Not being able to use his charm, Harrington has to actually talk to him. He still looks taken aback, clearly puzzling over what did just go wrong and why. Billy has to wonder if this boy even knows what Billy is. It should be obvious, easy to smell. Plus, the odor of three other wolfs sticks to him. But either Harrington is just amazingly good at hiding any reaction, or he has never seen or smelled a werewolf in his whole life.

"Confused? What a shame, such a pretty head but no brain inside."

That Wheeler chick chooses this exact moment to lean in, her nose nearly brushing Steve’s cheek. Billy has to chomp down onto his lower lip really hard to keep the possessive growl from slipping out. Blood spills into his mouth and over his lips - the cut his dad placed there earlier reopening - and the eyes of the vampire are suddenly on him, bright and sharp, burning with intensity.

But instead of doing something about it, or at least saying something, Steve lets himself be dragged away by his girl, following behind her like some overgrown pet.

His Billy's eyes track Harrington through the gathering of drunken teens until he slips into the kitchen and out of sight. And Billy freezes with the sudden realization what this pull in his chest mean, the urge to follow and to protect.

"Shit..."

He had always been fast to imprint on other wolfs when he had been younger, always wishing to find a place where he would belong, to find people that actually care. But a fucking bloodsucker?

"Shit."

~~*~~

Stumbling behind Nancy into the kitchen, Steve feels still stunned and so confused. More confused than he usually is nowadays, and that means something. His brain is a bit stupid with the smell of fresh blood still lingering on his senses. Even all these years of schooling his grip on his self-control have not reduced the instinct and want. Only that Steve can stay put now instead of going after the smell like a wild animal. That he is hungry after a few days of not eating doesn't help either. And... something had been so strange about the new boy.

The blonde had smelled of a disgusting mix of cheap cologne, even cheaper beer and warm sweat, but underneath had been something else. Something earthy and rich, kind of unpleasant. It reminded Steve of the smell of a wet dog and he has to wonder if the guy's family owns a rare breed. Something he can’t identify.

The overwhelming stink of the alcoholic fruity punch finally blocks out any lingering whiff of blood in the air, helping Steve to concentrate back on his girlfriend, who is working on a nice alcohol poisoning. He knows Nancy is pissed at him for what he said at school, she hadn’t been exactly subtil about her mood the whole days, but this seems to be a somewhat drastic measure.

Steve tries to fix it, tries to be a good and caring boyfriend.

Of course, he only makes it worse.

~~*~~

His broken heart feels like a gaping wound that bleeds despair into his body, making it hard to think, even harder to get up. Steve is holed up in his big empty house, let's himself lie there on the big, plush couch in the living room, let’s himself rot away in the shadows. He needs to eat, needs to get new blood into him, but what is the point.

Nancy had made his life bearable, had made Steve drop his walls. She had been the first person in decades he really wanted to be with, not by forcing her into loving him but by wooing her and winning her love. Steve had wanted to reveal himself to her. Wanted to be seen and to invite Nancy to join him and live an eternity by his side. 

But a little pull of unease in his chest had been holding him back. That same pull that did grow stronger with her spitting words at Tina's party and with the failed attempt of talking about it the day afterward. That pull that finally ripped his heart apart when the kids and he stumbled across Nancy and Jonathan outside the labs and he could smell that she was no longer his. That she had given her own heard away to someone else, before even properly breaking his.

It all felt unreal and far away, but only a few days have passed since then.

It is hard to be mad at Nancy, no use to blame her for feeling that connection Steve had wanted her to feel to him, with someone else. It is easier to hate himself instead. For going and falling in love in the first place. For not paying her more attention, not being a better boyfriend. For being a monster that no one could and would ever love.

A ray of sunlight hits Steve’s bare arm where he lies slumped on the couch in only shorts and he hisses at the discomfort and flinches back. Usually, he can go out into the sun, - opposite to what all the stupid movies are trying to sell - only starting on a bad sunburn after one hour or two in direct sunlight. But without barely any blood in his system to maintain even the most basic functions of his body, his healing is sluggish.

Steve inches his finger back into the light, watches with some bizarre sense of detachment how his skin starts to blister immediately. The eye-watering sting is a welcome distraction, blacking out the hollow feeling inside of him. It hurts but knowing that no one would care if he got harmed hurts even more. There are still some faint discolorations on his cheek from whatever Hargrove had done to him, and no one except the school had even checked in, had asked why he had disappeared for the last five days.

No one cares.

No one will miss him.

Slowly, Steve gets up. He pulls the blue, woolen blanket around his shoulders and over his head, builds himself a cape like a small boy to go of to adventures. Or like a lonely, ageless monster wandering off into the woods.

He doesn't care to close the veranda door behind himself, the cold November air hitting his bare legs. It is chilly outside, but the sky is clear for miles, not a single cloud in sight. Steve considers to lie down onto one of the patio chairs, but he can't bring himself to be that cruel to his parents. Even after fucking off to bask in the European romanticism, staying in Italy for decades now, they don't deserve to find a burned corps in their backyard, once they notice that their son is no longer returning any calls. If they notice at all.

Instead, Steve walks slowly into the forest behind the house, tall trees enveloping him and soft moose sinking under his steps. The ever-shifting bursts of sun start to burn his feed but he pays them no attention, walks on deeper into the woods. He has spent a lifetime out here, burning off energy, hunting animals to drink from. He knows this woods and he knows where his path leads.

When he finally reaches the big clearing, his shaking legs can barely hold him up anymore. Tall trees enclose the open space, maples and oaks, and beeches, some of them even older than he is. The place feels ethereal in his untouched calmness.

This had been one of Steves's favorite places, the perfect spot to watch the stars beck when the lack of pollution made it easier to see the night sky. He doesn't come here that often now, and a tree had been toppled over by a storm since the last time he visited, fallen straight into the clearing.

Steve finds the best spot that will have straight sunlight for the next hours, knows it won't take that long. He unfurls the blanket and sinks to the ground, taking in a big breath of air. The moose and grass feel like a soft mattress. It only takes moment's for his skin to start blistering and breaking open, only moments that his senses are filling with pain. Steve has to press his jaw closed to not make a sound, can feel his fangs digging into his lip. His body kicks into overdrive, trying to protect itself, burning through the last energy he has left even faster.

It feels like freedom when a gray numbness starts to pull him under. The smell of burned flesh and the pain does no longer matter. A shadow falls over him, his view slowly filling with black.

Then nothing.

~~*~~

Everything hurts.

It’s dark, and the air smells old and rotten, but none of that matters, the pain flooding his whole body, spilling over into a whimper. His skin seems to burn, his bones ache with agony. Steve tries to curl into himself but finds that he can’t.

Fabric rustles beside him.

Is he in danger? Should he try to protect himself? But even thinking about raising an arm makes his nerves spark up again, makes his fingers shake.

A wet noise, flesh ripping. The coppery smell of blood floods the room.

Warm, thick blood drip onto his lips. Instinctively Steve gathers the drop up with his tongue. The taste rips another noise out of him, something entirely different from pain and he greedily latches on when a wrist is placed against his lips, the blood already running, the skin already broken.

Steve does not try to control the hunger, wouldn’t be able to, if he tried. He grabs onto the offering, holds it weak but desperate and drinks the blood down with hard, long pulls. His body flares back to life, the pain suddenly spiking before his healing abilities start to kick in.

He gets a minute or five to blissfully indulge in the warm blood running down his throat, a few drops spilling messily over his lips and chin, before whoever decided it was a good idea to feed a dying vampire, realizes their mistake and starts to struggle in his hold, tries to pull away. There is another heartbeat besides Steves's own, picking up in a rising panic. He can taste it in the blood, too.

A last mouthful, then Steve let’s go.

The person beside him stumbles and falls to the ground but Steve can’t make out any details, feeling dizzy with the force of his healing, of his flesh mending itself and his skin growing back.

It’s too many sensations all at once.

Darkness pulls him back under.

~~*~~

Waking up after a healing trance always feels more like breaking the surface of the water after a long dive. Steves senses come back all at once, his eyes blink open and he takes a deep inhale. He doesn’t jolt upright, stays perfectly still - a habit back from before his parents decided beds were more fitting then coffins.

The world outside is quiet, the soft singing of birds and rustling of leaves, nothing else for his ears to pick up on. He can’t even hear one car, which means this place, whatever it is, must be deep in the woods.

Slowly, Steve lets his eyes travel across the space. He seems to be in some old, forgotten cabin. The place is falling apart at the edges, whole planks have rotted out of the walls and have fallen to the floor. There is sunlight filtering through the many gaps, but none of the light reaches into the corner where the bed is wedged in. Thick, dusty fabric covers the walls around Steve, a makeshift save place. 

There is otherwise not much to see in the tiny space. The few pieces of furniture that seemed to be relicts from the former owners are broken - a three-legged desk tripped on its side, a dresser with all its drawers missing, a moldy old armchair - and the fireplace is dirty and cold, gathering cobwebs. Some dust dances and glimmers in the air where the sun hits it, and Steve follows it’s twirling downfall with his eyes.

It is calming to watch for a moment, then some movement at the end of the bed draws his attention. And suddenly Steve is staring into intelligent blue eyes that emerge from a big pile of what he had first thought to be old blankets but reveals itself as fur.

If Steve had a pulse, it would probably skyrocket right now, while the animal sits up. It’s a massive wolf, it’s fur so dark, he seems to be a solid mass of blackness in the dim cabin. He has never heard of or seen a canine of this size, Steve could probably easily lean his elbow on its head would he be standing right now. Not that he would ever get so close to _this_.

“Fuck... okay. Good… wolf?”

Steve tries to inch toward the edge of the bed and gets as far as lifting the corner of his blanket before the animal growls at him. Deep and rumbling and fear-provoking. Could a vampire get killed by a wolf? Getting lacerated was probably nasty to heal.

“Listen, buddy… I’ll just going to… I’ll just leave, okay?”

Frozen in total horror, Steve watches the monstrous animal getting up, the old mattress dipping under its paws. The calm tone of his voice seems not to be helping and his body feels too sluggish from the intense healing to try and make a run for it. Without any hurry the wolf comes to stand over him, it’s legs on either side of Steve’s body. Then it flows down on him.

The air is knocked out of Steves's lungs, and he can hear one of his ribs crack under the full and blunt wight. His survival instinct kicks in finally, and he grabs fistful of black fur, tries to get the animal off of him. While burning up in the sun had sounded like a good way to end his misery, getting torn to pieces by sharp teeth didn’t in the slightest.

“Get off. Get OFF!”

Steve grabs onto a soft black ear and pulls, not the smartest move, but panic isn’t helping his brain to think clearly. The wolf growls again, Steve can feel the deep rumble against his chest and suddenly sharp teeth close around his throat.

Time freezes.

Lying impossible still, not even daring to take a breath or swallow, Steve waits. Waits for the pain. Droll drips over his skin. The hot breath of the beast feels like it is burning. But nothing happens. They don't moves for what feels like hours.

Not knowing any way to keep his head, Steve slowly relaxes, sinks deeper into the mattress. He does release the ear he is still holding, unconsciously patting over it to soothe the sting. A hurt ear for a shredded throat seems kind of a dump bargain anyway. Only as he is completely pliant does the wolf release him. 

Steve looks up into the stormy blue eyes.

“Now what?”

With a huff that seems so sound annoyed, the wolf plops his head down on Steve's shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> Look at all this stunning art, please and thank you  
> [Vampire Steve](https://zayacv.tumblr.com/post/190575071280/halloween-is-over-long-time-ago-but-since-we-had)  
> [Werewolf Billy](https://zayacv.tumblr.com/post/190556405790/big-bad-wolf-you-can-contact-with-me-any-time-if)  
> [Wanna eat him?](https://zayacv.tumblr.com/post/190606768450/story-of-vampire-and-werewolf-continues-xd-and-it)  
> [Moon Child](https://zayacv.tumblr.com/post/190737197110/its-almost-or-already-full-moon-dont-be-shy)


End file.
